Prologue: The Lonely One
by TheWheelofFate
Summary: One-shot introduction to upcoming story. Feedback would be appreciated. Intended to be an IchigoxOC fic. Actual fic will be T rated.


**Hello there. Well, looks like the time has finally come where I have published a story that isn't Naruto. This is an introduction to my first Bleach story, which I am still in the process of writing. This is a first-person POV of the main character, but the story itself probably won't be told first-person. The intro just gives the thoughts of the main character, but you don't have to read it in order to understand the story. It might help to read it as it goes along though, just to get an inside look as to what's going on. I wanted to get a feel of it before I published the real thing. So...yeah. Maybe that made sense, maybe not. Sorry...I'm not very good at these author notes. -_-**

Most people fear being alone. They rue the day when all their loved ones will fade away, and they're left to die, consumed by their isolation. They see such a thing as dark, terrifying, unfathomably painful. Yes, most people fear being alone.

I, however, fear being loved.

My name is Akira Hokkaido, heir of the Hokkaido Empire, as some people call it. My parents were billionaires, with equal status as the celebrities of their time. My father was a famous director who oversaw dozens of award-winning films. He worked with all the big-shot actors and actresses; he traveled the world and met hundreds of high-end people; he had his name etched out across every magazine in Japan. Producers begged him to direct their movies, groveled at his feet. My father was, in short, an amazing man.

And then there was my mother. She was the most beautiful woman in all of Japan—so my father tells me. She was very stylish and sophisticated, and as a result she opened her own line of clothing and a modeling agency, which became the center of all-things-fashion in Japan. She also did some acting in her earlier years, which is how she met my father. People say I look just like her, but I know they're just sucking up. Any beauty that I might obtain, even in the future, is nothing compared to hers.

From a glance, it seemed as if my parents had the world at their fingertips. After getting married, they walked away from the limelight, at the climax of their careers, I'm told, and moved to Karakura Town, Japan to start a family. They built a large estate on a hill overlooking the entire city, and from then on they lived mostly quiet lives. While my father no longer directed big-time movies, he became an accountant for his former coworkers and still managed to make a considerable amount of money. My mother wasn't at the forefront of her modeling agency, leaving it in the hands of one of her great friends, but she still owned and operated it from home; she kept designing as well. Why would two people who had everything going for them just up and walk away from what some people consider to be the good life?

It was because of me.

When my parents found out they were having their first child, they decided the spotlight was no place for it to grow up. They were still young, famous, and rich, but they were also caring people who wanted their family to have a regular life. They sacrificed so much for me…even their lives.

That's right. My parents gave up their lives to protect me, long ago. It would've been about ten years ago, almost to the day. I'd turned five shortly before then; I just turned fifteen. I don't remember everything from that night, but what I can pick out from those resentful, fuzzy memories are these four things: One, there was a terrible thunderstorm that night. There had been a hurricane off the coast of the island, and so while Karakura Town wasn't anywhere near the coast, it still received a considerable amount of torrential downpour. Two, my parents were attacked by hideous, frightening monsters, in which I suffered injury. I couldn't see much in the dark, especially since it was raining so hard, but I do remember they had white faces, red eyes, and very sharp claws. And they screamed loudly, like a banshee. Those screams haunted my nightmares constantly. Three, there was a man in a black kimono standing there, watching everything going on. I couldn't quite remember, but it appeared as though he was smiling. I only saw part of his face; when the thunder roared and the lightning crackled, I was able to catch a glimpse of it. I also faintly remembered something along the lines of shaggy, brown hair and square-framed glasses. I could've been imagining things, though. Not only that, but he was holding a weapon. Not a gun, or a knife, or brass knuckles. He was holding a sword in his hand, which I thought was odd. He didn't look like a samurai or anything—as if a samurai would be standing in my front yard in the middle of a thunderstorm watching monsters attack my family. Then again…it's not like much of anything else on that night made sense. And then there was the fourth and most devastating memory: My parents were killed. Not only were they killed by those monsters, with that strange man just staring down at them with a smile plastered on his face—I was the reason they died.

I had no idea what was going on, and because of that, I allowed my parents to die. If I'd only listened to my mother and stayed put inside the house, they wouldn't have gotten distracted by me running to them. They wouldn't have taken their eyes off of those _things_; they wouldn't have had to shield me from their attack. I barely remember what happened, but those four things I was sure of. Afterwards, a bright, white light encased my vision, and I saw this angelic form standing before me. There was a sword in her hand as well. She cut down the surviving monsters and that strange man, and then she turned and looked back at me. Her expression was hard to read—especially since I was five—but she didn't seem like an enemy, especially since she saved me. Her eyes were glowing red, and her smile was sad. She looked as if she was about to say something, but then she disappeared. Excruciating pain coursed through my entire body after that, and I let out a bloodcurdling scream that could probably be heard for miles, since we lived on a hill. I blacked out. Whether or not that actually happened…well, I try to dismiss it as my own overactive imagination to save myself from asking more questions.

I awoke sometime later in my uncle's house, with a cold towel on my forehead. I could tell just by the look on his face that something was wrong. He'd never been one to wear sad or troubled expressions, at least not that I could remember. I asked him where my parents were, but he didn't answer. He looked away, like he couldn't face me. I blacked out again, and when I came to, that's when he told me: my parents were gone.

They didn't just take off on their private jet to the Bahamas for a spontaneous vacation, leaving me behind so that I could go to school. No, they were gone, as in _dead_. And it was because of me.

After the funeral, my uncle informed me that I would be traveling to America to live for a while. I didn't say anything, even though I wanted to ask so many questions. But even at the age of five, I knew it was because of the incident with my parents, and so I stayed silent. I boarded the Hokkaido jet with a family friend, and thus began the trek to America. While in the states, I lived in a log cabin in the mountains, where I was homeschooled my entire education. During this time, I traveled the world, learning firsthand science, math, reading, writing, nature, history—anything and everything I could be taught. I managed to graduate early—if you can even graduate from homeschool—and that's when my uncle suggested it was time to come home.

I didn't want to go. In fact, I was bitter and uncooperative during the whole process. I wanted to stay as far away from Karakura Town as I could. I promised myself years before then that I would never go back there again. But my uncle was as persistent as I was stubborn. So, I packed all my things, said goodbye to my cabin and mountains that I had learned to love, and made my way back to the accursed Karakura Town, Japan. To make matters worse, my uncle informed me that I would be attending public school. Like, what the hell? I'd already been through enough schooling, and I had planned on going to college in America before he completely crushed everything.

I'd been in public school for a year when I was three, and I hated it. I remember there was one kid who bit my cheek while we were playing with blocks, and I pushed him down and got sent home for it. My parents made the decision that public school wasn't for me after I had repeatedly beaten up most of the other kids. So I was privately tutored up until I left Japan. Being around people, especially in a small space, surrounded by four walls, reading from a textbook and having to interact with others—well, that just wasn't how I operated.

I loved being isolated from the world. No one could ask me questions about what happened to my parents, so I didn't have to think about it more than necessary. I didn't have to be around people I couldn't stand—which was pretty much anyone—and I didn't have to share or be polite; the media couldn't find me and harass me either. I could forge my own identity, and make a name for myself instead of being in the shadow of my parents.

But there was one tiny flaw in that: _I_ didn't even know who I was. Not only that, but I didn't _want_ to know.

For years, I hid my true feelings behind a wall. I masked my insecurities, my fears, my pain. I took up kickboxing, soccer, taekwondo, and karate in order to channel my frustration out on other people instead of having to face my problems. I pushed people away in order to keep from showing them my vulnerability and inviting them in so that I could be a burden to them. I was determined not to lose anyone else. And in order to do that, I believed that I didn't need anyone else. It was almost as if Akira Hokkaido were a robot with no soul, personality, or character. I molded myself into whatever shape was around me. I was no one, and I was ok with being a nobody without anybody.

I couldn't risk that unbearable agony of losing someone I cared about more than once.

I stopped smiling, stopped being friendly—unless it was fake. I didn't want to be fake…but I didn't want to be real, either. No one needed to know the real me. All they needed to know was my name, that's it. Not my story, not my feelings. They didn't need my friendship or my kindness. They didn't need my love or affection. My heart was shut off from the world, locked away, with the key securely in my hand. I was determined not to open it up to anyone, no matter how hard they tried to come in, no matter how loud they banged on the door. Even if they screamed at the top of their lungs, I would close my eyes and turn away; I would cover my ears.

I was determined to spend the rest of my life alone, so that I wouldn't have to watch anyone else suffer like my parents suffered. When you love, you risk the chance of getting hurt. I didn't want to hurt anymore, and I didn't want to hurt someone else.

So you see, that's why I fear being loved. I am comforted by the idea of spending every waking moment to myself. I wanted to be the only one who bore my pain and sorrow. I didn't want anyone else to have to carry that weight on their shoulders.

Isolation, loneliness, seclusion, separation. They were all I had, all I wanted. Because of them, I seemed strong. If I had comrades, they would only see how weak I really am. Some of the last words my parents spoke to me were to be strong. So, in being alone, I am honoring their wish. But it was only so easy because I didn't have to be around people every day, especially not so many.

I wasn't sure what was going to happen when I arrived in Karakura Town, but I knew it wasn't going to be anything good. There was nothing for me there except regret.

Well, that's what I thought anyway. Turns out, there were a whole lot of things waiting for me in my hometown. But…maybe not all of it was bad.

**Hope you liked it? Considering it's the intro to an OC fic, anyway. BTW, the part where she was bit on the cheek actually happened in real life...to me. Except it was in daycare and I was a year and a half. Stupid kid. Hope he knows my skin is like acid (no really). Anyway, I hope to be publishing the actual story soon. **


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